The Bratva's Captive (Wicked Doms 3)

This is my chance for escape.

But God, where even am I? Does it matter? If I escape now, I can hide in the woods and find someone to help me... I know we're several miles from civilization, but we're hardly stranded in the desolation of Siberia. Still standing at the window, I look about me quickly. I need shoes and some clothes, and maybe some money. Does he have a wallet? Maybe he left it somewhere.

I go to the bedroom door and shut it.

My whole body trembles at what I'm about to do as I frantically search the room in hopes of finding what I need so I can go. I came with shoes. They're here somewhere... I yank open the drawer beside the bed, my heart hammering in my chest when I spy exactly what I'm looking for. His keys and a folded leather wallet. With shaking hands, I take the wallet out of the drawer. If he comes in right now... if he sees me... I don't even want to think about his reaction. My body still aches from the spanking he gave me, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that any punishment he'd give me for trying to escape would be far worse than what I've already endured.

With a glance at the door to the bedroom, I open the wallet. It's stuffed with money, but that isn't what gets my attention.

There's a picture in here. It's older and wrinkled, but when I smooth it out, I gasp in surprise. It's Maksym with a woman. And not just any woman. An absolutely stunning woman with vivid blue eyes, gleaming auburn hair, and a model-like figure that could grace the cover of any magazine. She's holding onto his arm and he has her tipped back, about to kiss her. And the look in his eyes—oh, God, that look. I would give anything for someone to look at me like that. As if she hung the moon and walks on water. As if he'd do anything for her.

A pang of jealousy hits me square in the chest so hard and fast I audibly gasp. Oh, God. I can't let myself think like this, and I quickly admonish myself. I couldn't help it, though. My reaction wasn't premeditated but instinctual. I hate that he's looking with adoration at another woman. I hate that she is—was?—someone worthy of his love and adoration.

Why do I even care? I shove all thoughts of Maksym aside and focus on something else.

Is she gone? She has to be. Something tells me he wouldn't do what he's done to me if he had any allegiance at all to another woman. And also... as I stare at the picture, focused more now on him than her. He looks happy in this picture, happier than I've ever seen him. Wherever or whenever this picture was taken, it was at a time before he became the man he is today.

Footsteps outside the door make me drop the wallet, but I quickly fumble for it and replace it in the drawer as the cabin door opens. I glide the drawer shut, cringing when the wood on wood squeaks a little, and I leap into bed just as the footsteps enter the cabin. My heart thunders in my chest.

Is it Maksym? Or someone else? I look about the room wildly for something to defend myself with, when the door opens and Maksym stands in the doorway, illuminated from behind by the light in the main room.

"Have you seen anything? Anyone?"

No, nothing. Just the keys to his past.

"No. Did you?"

He scowls. "No. It might have just been a wild animal that got Shepherd's attention. There was no evidence of trespassing." Sighing, he stalks to the bedside table and lays his gun down. "We need some rest." Thankfully he seems ignorant to the fact that I was snooping.

And as he locks the door and gets Shepherd settled, I wonder. Who was that woman? What did she mean to him? And did Shepherd really hear anything?

Are we truly alone?Chapter 11Maksym

I've scanned the perimeter of this cabin looking for any signs of a threat but have seen none. Shepherd is alert and trots off into the forest but comes back hanging his head after a few minutes. I look for any clue that might show me if someone's been here or not, but I find nothing. I'm preoccupied when I return to the cabin.

Someone tried to kill her the night before. Are they after us? Will they try to hurt her again?

My whole body clenches at the thought of an intruder coming in. Coming after her.

Touching her.

I'm ready to kill.

So when I return to the cabin, my first thought is to be sure she's still safe. No one's come in, and she's in the bed where I told her to go. She gives me a strange look; one I can't comprehend. Pity?